


Own It (It's Yours)

by gay_wristwatch



Category: Love Island (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27343546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gay_wristwatch/pseuds/gay_wristwatch
Summary: A few loosely connected oneshots featuring Yasmin.
Relationships: Yasmin/Main Character (Love Island)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Adore You

**Author's Note:**

> decided to use this pairing to get back into writing and do something different. never written in 1st/2nd person before, but to me the fact that there's only one static character in the pairing forces it. aaand here we are.
> 
> for the first time i actually have all of this written (debating adding another chapter), i'll post once a day as i edit the chapters. 
> 
> the theme i wrote around is basically about things the main character gives her at different points in their relationship.

I'm stepping into the cafe a little later than I intended thanks to some unexpected detours in the city, but what matters is that I’m here now. Walking into this coffeeshop is an intense sensory experience, even compared to the city outside; there's the expected mélange of scents in the air (espresso, frothed milk, matcha, chai, and pastries) but the lighting, focused on the small stage in the back, and the sounds, are not typical of any coffeeshop save for on open mic nights. It's a good deal warmer than the cool, damp, dark London evening too.

Yasmin does one of these once in a while, she says. I've done my fair share myself, especially before I ever had any real gigs as a musician. We both do now, though. For me, it's been years since I've been part of a menagerie of local acts entertaining cafe patrons in the evening, but Yasmin makes an effort to stay in touch with the local community as a singer-songwriter, so she does maybe one a month. And this is the first one I've caught; the first time i'll really see her perform for people that aren't me or other musicians practicing or jamming. It’s only been a handful of weeks since the show, but I’m not sure she’ll have time for these anymore; she seems to be more and more in demand due to the show.

I've heard her sing and accompany herself of course, I've even accompanied her as well. And I've heard her when she sort of forgets that I'm around to listen, when the nerves fall away and she gets caught in a creative flow.

She's on a stool in the back, and I swear the whole thing looks like a movie scene. My breath catches a bit as I take it in: there's steam from the dishwasher and the espresso machines and what-have-you behind the counter, all twisting through the lights casting onto the stage. Dust particles speckle the air, probably mostly due to the employee sweeping on the other end of the half-closed shop, stepping around tables stacked with inverted chairs. And the people half-lit by the focused lighting are quiet, enchanted, probably, as they listen to (and watch) Yasmin's performance. She's wearing her perfect blue eyeshadow and her brown coils catch the light beautifully while casting shadow on her jaw, trembling as she works through a short vocal run.

God, I'm lucky; lucky to have her and lucky I don't have to look anywhere else but at her brown skin and her lips and her fingers moving gently on her guitar. 

Her eyes are open and they catch mine and she tilts her head and smiles with the next few words until her eyes slip shut for a bit again. 

In open mic fashion, her performance is just one song. I could hear it, muddily, as I walked up to the shop's wide glass windows. I know she's only just started, thankfully. I'm enjoying the sight of her, but she's also good, and the sound of just one gorgeous voice and a lonely instrument working out a rendition of some song has always been welcome to my ears.

Right now it's somehow both soothing and exhilarating, which basically sums up my time dating Yasmin. A few moments later, as she's still playing, I realize I've just been standing by the door...then decide it's not worth trying to find a spot to sit right now. I just stand and listen as she plays through the latter half of the song, especially captivated by the decision to sing the last few lines a capella, eyes closed.

When she opens them again, she's looking right back at me, and a beaming smile comes to her lips as the applause begins. I smile, too, and whoop a few times, making her giggle a bit. She thanks the audience and tells them her name and how to find her.

I come over, unable to stop smiling now that I've seen her, and give her a kiss on the cheek as she snaps the buckles on her guitar case shut.

"Hey, sweetheart," I say softly. I'm not sure if she's bewitched me or if it's the environment, but I feel a bit awestruck by her beauty and her talent and my heart hasn't slowed down much since I got close to her. Maybe it's being on the stage, too. I feel like I shouldn't, or can't, speak too loudly. "That was lovely."

She tosses me another smile from her crouched position that lasts as she stands up. "Thank you, love," she says, shuffling her guitar to her other hand so that the one closest to me can gently guide my face to hers for a chaste, yet electric, kiss. I'm dazed--i'm probably giving her the dopiest smile right now. I think I hear someone in the audience go "aww."

I take a breath and step around her to take the guitar case from her and then offer her my hand. "Ready?"

"Yeah," she replies, and we clear the tables and chairs for the audience and patrons, then step back outside into the increasingly chilly night. She wraps her arms around herself for a second, rubbing her arms as we orient ourselves, then tangles her hands with my free hand as we walk down the block. I explain what made me a bit late but she's always gracious, and it's not a problem. We're mostly quiet, but it's comfortable, something I love about being with her. We can talk all day, or be together silently. I think it's a good sign for us.

I can't help but kiss her again when we're stopped at a light, waiting to cross, and I can't help whispering in her ear how lucky I felt earlier, watching her. 

"You're too sweet. Stop," she says, playfully, as we set off again. She's been practically glued to my side but the cold is becoming a bit uncomfortable, walking through the city streets. Truth be told, neither of us dressed properly for the cool evenings of autumn turning to winter. I notice that though we left a coffee shop a few blocks back, we're coming up on another one that I've been to a few times that makes great tea lattes. It's open late, as well, so we could warm up in here if she's up for it.

"That cafe that has the lavender cookies is close by, want to stop in to warm up?"

"Absolutely, it's colder than I thought it'd be...and I know you can't resist those,"

"They taste too delicious and unique to ever say no to eating..." I trail off and she looks at me, and we both know what I'm going to say next. "Like you."

She's shaking her head and slapping my arm as she chuckles at my silliness.

Eventually we make it in, grab two oat milk lattes (chai for her, London fog for me), and cozy up in a corner with our drinks and cookies. I bought four, and I relish drinking the latte with the tea cookies. I can feel her eyes on me, watching me enjoy the food, and blush a little. She hasn't eaten one yet, but I've blazed through two of the cookies already. At this point, she's got her head resting in her hand, blatantly observing me with a little smile on her face. It's amusement and affection at once.

"Yes?" I prompt, hoping she'll share her thoughts.

"Just looking at you, darling." She lifts a hand and tucks some of my hair back for me before I could dust off my hands and get it. I send her a grateful smile.

"And thinking about...?"

"Nothing in particular. I just like you and I'm glad to be here in this moment with you," she explains, and it's a very Yasmin thing to say, which I mean in the best possible way.

I take her hand and stroke it with my thumb as I pop another cookie into my mouth. She laughs and shakes her head.

"You can't get enough of those, can you?"

I make a noise and shake my head because she's right. Then I realize--I've been stuffing my face and I never asked if she wanted one. I freeze for a second, swallow, and take a drink. 

"I don't get how you haven't fought me for them. Do you want one?"

"Well, they're tasty, but I was just going to let you have your treat, and that's the last one after all--"

"I should have offered you one earlier though! I can't possibly eat the last one now, Yas," I think she sees that I'm actually in a bit of distress over this, and I can see that she caves a bit. 

"Are you sure you won't resent me for eating it?"

"Never. Not you. Please," I push the plate closer to her a bit. She doesn't move.

"Can you...." she looks at me and does some combination of glances and gestures with her hand that I think means she wants me to bring the cookie to her mouth for her. I grin. We're that couple.

"My pleasure," I reply, then grab the cookie and lift it to her lips while we maintain eye contact. She's got my pulse racing again. She parts her lips, opens her mouth, and I pop the cookie inside as smoothly as I can, but she still needs to bring her head forward a bit, and her hand instinctively moves to catch the cookie. She chuckles at the somewhat clumsy exchange interrupting our smoldering moment; I join her.

I dive in and press a kiss to her temple once, twice, and leave my arm around her. She eventually holds my other hand in hers and I sigh, struck by a wave of contentedness in this cafe with my girl.


	2. Always Be My Baby

We're all done up in our faux-90s garb, scrunchies and chokers galore. It feels a little weird, knowing that some participants definitely don't remember a bit of the nineties while I do, but it's just a fun night so I'm not going to get bogged down in how "old" I am at 25. I'm going to try to keep my mind off of the irritating events of the recent past, here, too--Rafi and Lily are just two more bodies dancing and laughing this particular night away for a while. And the night is actually pretty fun, what with the amazing dance floor and music set up, all the flashing lights and expansive, booming speakers pounding old hits into the mini-club. I'm happy to dance a bit with Yasmin until Tim unveils a karaoke machine and all of a sudden I know the night's going to be one to remember. Tim's taken a break from DJing and people start to take their turns singing while others mix and sip drinks.

Nicky takes the stage first. He goes with Gettin' Jiggy Wit It, and when he puts the mic back toward the rest of us for the "na-na-na"s, it becomes a group effort. 

Harry refuses, citing a total inability to sing, which some of the group try to pressure him past, but I remembered his anger back by the pool and try to put a stop to it. "He doesn't have to if he doesn't want to, guys. And if he doesn't want to, it's not gonna be fun if he tries to force it! Here, pass the mic." I wasn't quite planning on going so soon myself, but I've been in the situation enough times to be comfortable. I just have to keep the thought that this is being recorded out of my head and confine the moment to what's in front of me: the contestants. Friends. Yasmin.

Once I see it, I know there's no way I can choose anything else. I'm a bit bummed that I can't hear Yasmin sing this to me instead of the other way around, since she's an actual vocalist. I can do a decent job with vocals, but it's not what I do primarily as a musician. Ah well. My voice has served me when it matters, and especially when it hasn't: in rooms full of non-musicians in casual situations, demanding I play or sing something once they learn I'm a musician by trade.

Karaoke's more about energy than skill anyway. Nicky seems to have got that. The song picks up and everyone realizes what it is. I decide to throw caution to the wind and join in on Mariah's signature melisma in the opening, complete with shimmies and sass. Basically, I'm pretending I'm in the music video...in public. It's a little embarrassing if I think about it too much, but it won't be fun if I'm self-conscious and afraid to get into it.

After the light scatting, I dramatically clap and attempt to get everyone to carry it on for a bit along with me--they're (we're) all a couple drinks in and feeling the way the night is going so they actually do, and keep it up. Genevieve is singing along, clearly feeling the groove of the music. I can't help but smile, she's so genuine.

The first verse come sup, finally (I had forgotten that the intro is a bit long!) and since everyone knows the song, the clapping stops at around the same time. None of that awkward situation where half the people stop clapping and then there's even more awkward stragglers trying to keep it going, thank god. I lift the mic and inhale, ready to actually sing now and maintain some of the theatrics.

"We were as one, babe, for a moment in time,"

It's Mariah, so there's still a ton of difficult melisma thrown in all over the place on the original, so I simplify the vocal lines and keep runs minimal where I can. Everyone seems into it, though, and I'm involuntarily smiling as I spread my eye contact across our small crowd while I do a mild 90s diva impression as I sing. Most of my eye contact, however, is shared with Yasmin, like our smiles, and she has this sweet sort of adoring look on her face that's giving me butterflies.

"You will always be a part of me; I am part of you indefinitely," I wink at Yasmin as I switch the next lyric up to suit us. "Girl, don't you know you can't escape me? Oh, darling, 'cause you'll always be my baby."

The song's a hit; most of the Islanders are just enjoying the music and watching me, but some (Tai) are melodramatically singing the lyrics to whomever they're coupled up with now, forcing me to tamp down on giggling while I work through the song. Finally, I'm finished and flushed as I prepare to put the mic back on the stand. I stop for a second because Yasmin's coming up on stage, hips swaying as she approaches me with a glint in her eye. Unsurprisingly, I can't look away and I'm a bit dazed as she comes close, leans in, and puts her lips so close to my ear I can feel her lips brushing them. I fight not to shiver and actually process what she's saying. Her hands are on me, too (a gentle hand on my back, and her fingers on my arm), which makes this extra difficult.

"Stay with me up here, I want to sing a song with you," she requests. I'd never say no, even though I'm a bit intimidated by being right up against her vocal talents. She winks at me when she draws back after kissing near my ear softly. I nod. Dumbly. She does that to me a lot. 

Yasmin queues up Señorita, and a piece of me rejoices a bit. I always thought the song would have been so much better as a same-sex duet...with women. I beam at her as the intro plays, and this time, instead of being hyper-aware of my performance and the cameras and the audience...the rest of the room melts away somewhat, like Yasmin is enshrined in spotlight. That's just how she makes me feel though, and the sensation of being entranced by her as the sensual song begins is magical. She's got Camila's part, while I'm Shawn; the split suits the timbre of our voices.

It's easier to focus on the vocals because I'm not being dramatic, I'm just singing to her. Part of me is trying to impress her but I know I've got to relax. When I remember that she likes me how I am, that's easier.

When her verse comes up, she moves on me...somewhat predatorily. She's somehow keeping the campy dramatic flair that's obviously overdone for the karaoke and cameras while edging on sexy at the same time. I can't take my eyes off her, and the same seems to be the case for her as well. She actually encircles me as we both move gently with the beat.

When the songs over, she sends me off stage with a sweet kiss and I get us both two more drinks in a bit of a daze.

"I know that wasn't a 90s song, I just couldn't pass it up," Yasmin explains briefly, as she puts the mics back. "I hope no one minded," her grin belies the fact that she definitely knows no one did. 

"I don't think that's possible," someone remarks. I snort into my drink and pass Yasmin hers as she returns to my side, ready to enjoy whatever's next.

Eventually, we move on from karaoke and dancing, and something totally unexpected happens: Tim announces the recoupling, and there's tension as Rafi and Lily chose their partners. I'm kind of shocked by both of their choices--glad that they both respected our couple, but upset at what Rafi did, all while I respect Lily for choosing to walk. It's a whirlwind and the drama between Rafi and Elladine and Nicky has basically ruined the mood for me. Yasmin and I both jump at the offer to go to Tim's VIP room, though for a second I'm wondering what his motives are.

After a bit of small talk with Tim, he leaves us be to keep doing his thing with the other islanders. It's just Yasmin and me in this room, with some rare alone time and relative quiet (music notwithstanding; it kind of blends into the background here). We're cuddled on the couch in the somewhat dim light. Feels like a good place to recover from tonight's wiles.

"Hey," I say, breaking a moment of quiet. "I just wanted to say...I'm so relieved Rafi and Lily let us be. I hope you know I want you, not her. I tried to make that clear but she was grafting on me so hard...didn't want there to be any confusion."

Yasmin smiles faintly. "I know. She's fit but I know we have a connection. Same with Rafi, you know. You never had anything to worry about, except for just now I guess. That was scary, I would have been really unhappy if he'd coupled up with me."

I smile and kiss the side of her head quickly, somewhat bashfully. This is rare alone time on Love Island, and it feels like everything we do here is magnified and more important somehow, while seeming natural and safe at the same time.

After a few more moments, Yasmin moves off my shoulder and meets my eyes for a couple of beats before she's leaning in and pressing her soft lips to mine once, then again. And again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops, got too caught up in real life events (hell of a week..)


	3. Baby It's You

In the beginning, when we were still on the show, I had an inkling that this might become a "thing" between the two of us, bringing beverages to the other. She started it, always offering me cups of hot tea in the mornings we spent together.

  
I was right.

Of course, it wasn't an accident, and it's no big deal; I don't think we've ever brought it up aloud, but the way she kisses me (and I her) after these particular small favors seems like we both know what's going on.  
This morning, she's still sleeping from a late arrival from a gig. She's been working a lot lately, which is good but also...not, in some ways, I fear. She seems stressed about it and I won't lie--there's tension building and we'll have to talk soon about it. Today though, I want to show her I'm happy she's here and that I care about her. I want to see the way her eyes will light up when I've got a breakfast she likes prepped as she wakes up and walks into the kitchen with a hot, soothing cup of tea.

Her body is warm, soft, comfort itself against me, but we're no strangers to slipping out of bed while the other's sleeping (damn work, damn early flights). Regretfully, I peel myself away from her. Thankfully, she doesn't wake.

I watch her for a few moments--can't seem to resist-- then begin to stretch and walk away. I can't help but linger in the doorway to take in the view of her slumbering in our bed. It's pretty dark in the room despite the light outside; having dark curtains helps both of us with our sleep. There isn't much light and so her form is barely illuminated. Some parts of her meld into the darkness while others catch the low light and glow softly. Yasmin is always beautiful, I notice, for the millionth time. The way her body is completely relaxed, her hair in a loose braid, as her torso slowly but consistently expands and contracts with breath...it's captivating in a different way, though, and I know why; I miss having her around more. I shake myself, close the door to protect against the noise I'll be making, and move into the kitchen to check out what we have and pick something to start cooking.

To keep quiet, and to accommodate my half-somber mood, I keep things simple. I've got some waffles I made last week stored in the freezer, so I'll reheat those and make a berry compote to go with it. I'll slice some fresh fruit while I'm at it. While the berries are doing their thing in the pot, I set about making Yasmin's tea. The door's still closed, and I haven't heard anything, so I assume my near-comical attempts to cook without producing any metallic clangs or thumps have been successful. I'm half-expecting to find her watching me every time I turn around.

I creep back into the room to bring her her cup of tea, with mine waiting back on the counter. Never could carry drinks very successfully so I stick to one at a time if I can help it. The hot mug feels damn good against my hands as I grasp it, and my mind flashes to Yasmin's own body and the way it feels under my palms. I almost laugh at myself; I've really missed her in every way.

She's still sleeping. I perch myself on the side of the bed closer to where she's lying after setting the drink down and slide my hand over her shoulder gently. I'll never get tired of feeling her skin on mine, I don't think. I rub my thumb along her skin, like she does to my hand.

"Yas?" After a few attempts, she starts stirring, and makes a few sounds of protest. She's getting up though. Maybe I should have opened the curtains, but that seems unnecessarily cruel and abrupt.

"Hey, love," I near-whisper to her. I push her wayward strands back and kiss her forehead as she blinks her eyes open, and when I pull back, our eyes finally meet. I smile at her before I even realize it, and I feel relieved in some part of my mind to even have eye contact in person with her. Not through a screen. I lean down and kiss her face a few times, then we initiate a kiss in tandem. She'd come home late last night, late enough that I couldn't have waited up for her, and my brain barely recorded the brief intermission of waking up as she got into bed. We kissed, I know, but this feels like the real "welcome home" kiss. It's nice. She touches my face and I shiver a little. I break the kiss and whisper in her ear that I'm so glad she's back, before kissing her there, too.

She's sitting up next to me now, so I reach over and grab the mug so I can press it into her hands, finally.

"Good morning," I say, quietly, and the sleepy contented smile she gives me communicates what I already know and feel, too: Yasmin loves me. She loves being with me. She loves these moments. My hand comes up to push the strands of hair that have escaped her braid back so she can sip her tea.

"Thank you," Yasmin says, eventually, and somewhat unexpectedly. In reply I take her hand and lead her to the kitchen for breakfast, and smile at her again over my shoulder.


	4. How Long Will I Love You?

It's not snowing this Christmas, it's actually raining. A little disappointing to the part of you that's always wanted a white Christmas, every year without fail, but something about this rainfall makes the world seem quieter and your home feel cozier. Like you ought to be here, warm and dry, and not in the freezing rain.

Yasmin comes up to stand beside you at the window you've been gazing out of, clutching a cup of tea from the pot you made to share. Her hands, hot from the warm mug, come up and caress your neck and shoulder. You lean into her from your seat, gently, minding the cup and its liquid. It's not your first Christmas together, but it'll probably be the best yet, considering how tension had been mounting in your relationship in that first year. Things have changed, and you're easily able to simply be glad to be together on Christmas, as you've been for several days now, enjoying Christmastime and doing cheesy things together. That's not usually your thing, but it's turned out to be quite fun to indulge in with Yasmin. Putting up some decorations, debating putting up a festivus pole or a tree (real? fake?) and eventually settling on a tiny faux fir tree barely half a meter tall, complete with fir needle fragrance hidden in the apartment. The one thing you both love is Christmas lights, and right now, the overcast late morning light and the string of lights framing the window are illuminating Yasmin's face and her long dark hair beautifully. The steam from her mug rises visibly, too, and you feel like you're watching a movie scene.

You've got a well-stocked plate of cookies on standby within arm's reach and snag one of the gingery, spicy, people-shaped treats, breaking it in two before handing one half off to Yasmin as you rise from your comfortable spot. There's something you want to do before you get to exchanging gifts. You can feel Yasmin's eyes tracking you across the room as you move to pick up your phone, start a playlist you made for this moment you hope to create, and move back toward her, making eye contact on your way back.

"Dance with me?" You prompt, holding a hand out, unable to help the grin on your face as you ask. It's terribly cliche, but dammit, sometimes cliches are nice. That's gotta be part of why people keep doing them enough to become cliches, right?

Ellie Goulding is still humming along with the intro music to the song as Yasmin puts her tea down and smirks back at you, shaking her head. "You're hopeless," she says, but she takes your hand and you walk back a few steps into the most open area of the room. You're both still in vaguely wintry pajamas, so her arms brush the collar of the tartan flannel shirt you're wearing, buttons completely open, which Yasmin shows her appreciation for by stroking her thumbs along your collarbone before her hands settle in. Your own hands alight on the curve of her waist.

What had only been a semi-serious moment slips into something decidedly more romantic when neither of you can seem to break eye contact while you sway to Ellie's soft voice and harmonies. It's a short song, but the lyrics have always felt so deeply affecting to you that you can't help but pull her even closer. Yasmin drapes her arms over and around your neck now, and dips her head onto your shoulder.

You feel her drop kisses there, intermittently, as you move together--and then it's over. You both nearly clamor for a passionate yet soft kiss that lasts and lasts, until you don't know for sure how long you've been standing there with joined lips.

Eventually, Yasmin rests her head against your forehead, catching her breath. "That was perfect," she says, and you can't help but agree. This time, she leads you over to the couch and sits you down. "I want to give you mine first," she explains before disappearing. She comes back quickly, looking a bit nervous and holding a box. It's a pretty big box. She hands it over and sits alongside you.

When you open it, there are several wrapped items inside. "This isn't one of those box-within-a-box pranks or something, is it?"

She laughs, a little nervously still. "Of course not, that would be evil. And if it were I definitely wouldn't admit it." She sends you a mischievous grin, seeming to relax a bit.

You peel the paper off the first box and--it's a sex toy. "Yasmin!" You gasp melodramatically, turning to her with wide eyes. She's blushing a little, and you're guessing she has her plans for this particular toy in mind. You'd discussed getting this exact toy before, so you're not shocked or upset; just excited. You tell her as much, then set it aside and move to the next box. It's wide and flat, and turns out to be a set of chocolate from a shop you'd gushed about to her before. They even make vulva chocolates, but this seems to be a box with variety.

Finally, you open the last gift, and you're a bit stunned to find that it's a sleek box with the name of one of your favorite designers embossed on the front. This must be what she was nervous about, and probably because of the cost. Nothing to take a loan out for, you hope. Your eyes flicker over to her and she definitely seems on edge, waiting for you to open it and react. You smile softly.

"You didn't have to do all this, Yas."

"I know. Except I kind of did. You make my life so much better. I love...us. I know you think it's too much, but I promise it's not. Giving you nice things is worth it." 

She takes your chin and kisses you again, soundly, as if trying to prove her point with the press of her lips. "Now go on, open it."

You lift the top off the box and find a piece of jewelry you'd admired for quite some time. It's a bracelet--no actual jewels or bling, but it's perfectly you, and the design is unique. Thinking back, you must have mentioned this to her or looked at it a little too long one day when you were shopping together. Shocked at her attentiveness, which you recall--hadn't always been the case, but she's worked on it--you let her slip it onto you and lean into her as you admire it. Her arms encircle you and you tilt your head up to kiss her. "Thank you," you whisper, heartfelt, after you part.

After a few moments you spring up, ready to give Yasmin her gift. "I can't wait any longer to give you yours, the waiting always drives me nuts," you say as you dash off.

"That's my line," Yasmin says through a chuckle. When you come back, she's shocked at the size of the box you return with. "Oh my god."

"I want you to remember everything you just said to me, okay?" She looks a bit miffed and rolls her eyes dramatically when she realizes her words will have to go both ways.

"Turnabout's fair play I suppose."

"I hope you don't mind I didn't actually wrap it. I never would have been able to hide it in plain sight like I did if it was covered in elves or something."

"I can't believe you pulled that off. Of course I don't mind, sweetheart." She begins to pry open the box after you both settle on the ground. "Can you help me with it?"

You keep your eyes on her face as she opens it to find a black guitar case.

"Oh my god. You--" She's hesitating with her hands at the latches on the case.

"Just open it, darling." It's parlor guitar she'd wanted to have an easier, more accessible way of accompanying herself for practice and for her own songwriting. It's smaller than most, so it's perfect for taking anywhere, which she needs to do a lot.

She basically pounces on you after she sees it, and you spend long moments holding her and kissing her back. It's pretty difficult to separate her from the guitar after that, though, and later, when you've set down hot chocolate for both of you, she breaks into a rendition of Can't Help Falling In Love that has you swooning...and you could take or leave the guitar, good as it sounds. It's her voice that does it for you. It's her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if it wasn't obvious from the other chapters i'm pretty american, so i'm not sure if christmas cookies/biscuits is a thing in the uk. i feel like i have a decent amount of exposure to uk culture yet i have no idea if y'all do that...it is in this fic though! also not sure about what christmas music y'all might listen to. ...also, since this fic is kind of just a 'get back into writing and actually 'finish' something' exercise, i'm experimenting with writing in second person, which i've never done before and have always had mixed feelings about. anyway, hope it was alright. this is gonna be the last chapter; i was kind of trying to force myself to write 5, but i'm a bit tapped out on this pairing, and trying to drum up the enthusiasm to write another chapter only delayed this one by a lot, which was supposed to come out during xmas.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the cover that i had in mind while writing this, check it out and get blessed: https://youtu.be/ISAJ_qTdwGA


End file.
